


The Crystal Room

by kingcoldwaughter (WhichWolfWins)



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Happy Sex, M/M, Smut, The crystals made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhichWolfWins/pseuds/kingcoldwaughter
Summary: Sexual chemistry in the crystal room is an orgasm waiting to happen.





	The Crystal Room

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic in this fandom and my first nsfw fic in a while - hopefully you guys enjoy!
> 
> If you want to request a Queliot fic, do so at my multi-fandom blog [here](http://eveningsoother.tumblr.com/) or my Magicians blog [here](http://kingcoldwaughter.tumblr.com/)!

It was bright sunshine outside and the crystals in the room were on full glitter, dancing and spiraling around the room like a meteor shower. Quentin had been trying to read, but it was almost as if he’d become entranced by the random dashes of rainbow light glinting around the room, because he didn’t notice Eliot enter until he nudged Quentin’s legs aside and found a way to curl his 6’4” frame into the alcove beside him. Quentin half blinked and turned his head toward Eliot while keeping his eyes fixed on the dazzling lights. 

“Hi,” he said faintly, caught in a feeling between high, twilight sleep, and a total puddle of relaxation. He wasn’t quite sure he was awake - his brain, for once, felt quiet; it was pure bliss. 

“Hey,” Eliot said, voice equally distant. His eyes flickered to Quentin, then out the window at the morning rays and fixed there. 

There was a part of him that knew, distantly, that it was the energy from all the crystals in the room that was making him feel like this. That was what the room was meant for, after all - focusing energy and enhancing it, but he didn’t care. He told himself that the crystals couldn’t make something that wasn’t already there - he was happy, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Quentin breathed in the silence, scenting Eliot’s spiced, musky cologne, and breathed out. He admitted to himself immediately that was a lie. 

With Eliot, a feeling had entered the room. It wasn’t a feeling foreign to Quentin - in fact, it was one that slipped in and out of his thoughts too frequently to be just a curious thing, and along with it a buzzing bloomed in Quentin’s chest. 

“Quentin,” Eliot started at the same time a giggle escaped Quentin’s lips. The taller man tilted his head questioningly when he realized what Quentin had just done and a self-conscious smile played onto his lips. “What’s so funny?” 

Quentin shook his head, smiling. “I should not be in here.” 

Eliot's eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to throw a retort. 

“With you,” Quentin mumbled, trying to get himself to sit up, but unable to fight the overwhelming feeling of ‘good’ taking hold of him. “I should not be in here with you.” 

Eliot's lips pressed together and he nodded. His hands were fisted in his lap and he looked at them now, holding them together to keep from fidgeting. “That’s actually why I came,” he said. “I wanted to apologize.” 

“I don’t think you were that bad,” Quentin laughed. Then laughed again, because that was not what he should have said. God, he felt drugged. He rolled his head back and forth to try to shake the cobwebs from his head, but that only served to send the buzzing from his brain down the rest of his body. He had a suspicious feeling he might actually be getting an erection. Heat warmed his cheeks at the thought and he covered his face in embarrassment, but his mouth went on. “I mean, I don’t really remember it, but I remember parts of it and the parts I do remember…” 

Cheeks truly blazing now, Quentin tried to hold his tongue, but there was no stopping now. He was wound up and the buzzing in his brain seemed to have taken down what little barrier it normally had between ‘think’ and ‘say’. “A lot of moaning,” he finished awkwardly. 

He only had time to flick his hidden eyes to Eliot before the taller of the two sprung across the divide between them and cupped Quentin’s face in his hands. He met Quentin’s eyes for a fraction of a moment before his mouth was on his, soft and hungry and firm. Initially, Quentin had tensed as Eliot moved - his brain finally snapping out of the haze and preparing for a strike - but instead he was left reeling from the sheer weight of the moment. 

Lips pressed against lips and Quentin finally moved, leaning up into the kiss and meeting Eliot halfway for what felt like the first time. Eliot’s eyes, vulnerable and fringed with dark lashes looked starved as he pulled away from the kiss to look down at him. “There won’t be going back from this, Quentin,” he warned, and the way his glistening mouth looked when he said it made the hunger in Quentin surge up to Eliot and capture it again. 

“I don’t want to,” Quentin mumbled against him. 

“I was hoping you would say that.” 

Eliot reached up and pulled off his jacket for some freedom, but they were both already too far gone for more undressing. Instead, Eliot balled his hands into Quentin’s sweater and rode his thigh, panting against his face as he bent back down to kiss him. He let out a soft keen, desperation taking hold of him as his hips thrust, and Quentin moaned at the sound. It was like the buzzing, except he wasn’t numb to this - he felt it so vividly that for once, he was glad he wasn’t dreaming. 

Hips ground into hips as they rocked against each other, seeking friction. Quentin couldn’t believe that he was here again, kissing Eliot like he had days before, except now there was no denying what was happening. The room had taken hold of the energy between them and dialed it up to 10, making what was happening an unquestionable fact: they wanted this; Quentin wanted this. 

Eliot’s hand slipped into Quentin’s boxers, gripping him in those long fingers of his, and that’s all it took for Quentin to tip over the edge, the pressure too much for him to bare. He pressed his head hard against the wooden window seat as he rode Eliot’s palm, letting out a cry he couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to. Eliot wasn’t too far behind, riding Quentin’s thigh like his life depended on it. He didn’t bother removing his hand from Quentin’s pants, just ground down into him as his body clenched up and he shuddered, gasping into the heated air between them as he came. 

It was uncomfortable pressed down into hard wood by someone heavier than him, limp dick trapped in damp jeans in a warm room on a hot day, but it wasn't terrible. The buzzing was back, except this time it was actually just Eliot humming as they lay there against each other, sinking into pools of bliss together.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it!
> 
> If you're interested, follow me at my multi-fandom blog [here](http://eveningsoother.tumblr.com/) or my Magicians blog [here](http://kingcoldwaughter.tumblr.com/) where you can request a Queliot fic!
> 
> Comments encouraged!


End file.
